


up in flames

by Blownwish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, VictUuri, episode ten fic, first victuuri please don’t kill me, vituuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 14:31:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13102146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki took over the banquet like a force of nature. And Viktor Nikiforov, too. Now Viktor has to decide what to do, next, with a little help from his friends. Or not.





	up in flames

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phayte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phayte/gifts).



> Happy early Birthday, Phayte!

He was fairly certain he was in love. No, he knew he was in love. Yuuri Katsuki was going to be the love of his life and all Viktor needed to do was make it happen.

“So let me try to understand this,” Chris said. “You’re in love with a man because he poll danced around drunk and half naked?”

Viktor switched his iPhone to his right shoulder. Snow was falling like stars through the wide panel windows as Yuri Plisetsky buzzed around the rink like an angry bee. Viktor just had to smile so he wouldn’t dive through the phone and kill Chris. “No. I’m in love because of _the way_ a man danced, drunk and, yes, sometimes half naked.” There. That couldn’t have been any more sincere than that big middle finger Yuri was giving him. Chris had gotten the truth and lived to tell. Viktor should get some sort of friendship meal for that one.

“That’s brilliant. I am so happy for you.” Chris chuckled. “Honestly, Viktor. You are being absurd.”

Viktor waved as Yakov started hollering about cell phones on the rink, and Viktor wondered if Ciao Ciao yelled at Yuuri Katsuki, too. “Am I? Tell me, how did you feel when you met Stephan?”

“Horny.” Chris was probably sitting in his terry cloth robe, waiting for his husband to come home from that office job, with soup, salad and white wine. “Love grows. It doesn’t just happen.”

“Yes it does.” He watched Yuri knock out a quad Salchow, and Yakov had something new to scream about; that sloppy landing could cost Yuri his ankle before he hits his first seniors competition. All to get Viktor’s attention, of course. But he didn’t have that passion in his eyes, he didn’t have that almost-smile, he didn’t set Viktor on fire. Not like _him._ “It happened to me.”

“Whatever. Listen darling, take my advice. If you want to settle down, then move a nice man into your flat and let him bounce you on his dick.”

Ha! “Do you think I could get him to move in with me?”

Chris groaned.

They could skate together everyday, and make love every night until they fell asleep tangled up in each other. “I’ve never been excited about anything outside of skating, before.”

“Or maybe you’re just worried about losing gold to me and comforting yourself with fantasies.”

Viktor laughed. “Aw, that’s sweet. Let’s see how that works out.” Suddenly Yuri screeched in his face as he stopped just shy of toppling Viktor over. He screeched some more when Viktor didn't stop laughing.

“Let that little juniors brat suck you off after practice. It’ll clear your head.”

He put his hand over the phone. “Yuri, Chris says hi.”

++

He’s not nervous. He hasn’t been nervous since he won his first gold. Nerves are for people who won’t succeed. He’s excited, that’s all. That’s why the cold air is pinching his cheeks. That’s why Yuuri Katsuki’s seaside town seems like a glossy photograph. The atmosphere crackles with winter static. Is this real? These are the streets Yuuri walked on as a little boy. This is the grey sky that watched him blossom. This is where he is, _right now_.

He stands at the pier with his back to the sea. Wind tries to slice through him. Tries and fails, as he stretches his arms, wide, embracing the cold. Makkachin barks.

“No, not yet.” Viktor closes his eyes. He wonders what Yuuri will do when he opens the door. Everything else is a given. “Let’s enjoy the moment.” Snow falls into his hands in fat flakes as water sloshes against the wood.

Makkachin huffs.

“I’m not nervous. I just want to remember this place. It’s going to be special to me.” He imagines Yuuri looking back at him with pleasure, mouth ready to be taken. He closes his eyes. He feels the snow kiss his face. “Yes.”

++

He moved like he was making love. No, he didn’t shake his ass or thrust as much as Chris. It was the fluid movement, as if the music was carrying him away. And pleasure, his eyes were warm with pleasure, and his mouth was open. Just a little. Just enough to make Viktor want to see the tongue.

And when he did —

Viktor threw back his fourth Champagne glass.

He never felt jealous of Chris. He never needed to. But who knew that cute Katsuki fellow was eroticism in the flesh? Viktor was still recovering from their dance off.

Viktor had watched him face off against Yuri. The kid tried, but every step looked forced compared to the ecstatic, heated movement in Yuuri Katsuki’s body. No, he was on fire, challenging anyone and everyone to take him on. Viktor shoved Yuri aside not one minute after it started.

Yuuri threw his head back and smiled. Oh, mercy. “Oh, it’s _you_.”

“Never seen a boy to do a man’s job.” Viktor pulled of his jacket and held it near his hip, like a toreador. He wanted to see what he was dealing with.

Yuuri charged him, fingers for horns and arms that caught Viktor as he turned and tipped him back. Oh. He was looking at Viktor. Looking through him and showing him a heat that, that — Viktor didn’t realize what heat was until that moment. He remembered gasping like a silly schoolboy when Yuuri looked over his body, for a moment that stretched out into forever, before he pulled Viktor close. And tight. “Still think you're man enough?” His breath was hot against his ear. Viktor nearly swooned.

Then he started laughing, because there he was, Viktor Nikiforov, flush and hard and feeling the beat in every brush of Yuuri’s body. He ran his hands up and down Yuuri’s arms then spun him around, then swayed as Yuuri turned so he could catch him. Hold him. Contain him. Viktor smiles as he bent him on his arm. “Pretty sure.”

Then he slipped away. This time he was laughing, but he was leaving. Being pulled away. Viktor saw Chris wink, and somehow he was naked. And then Yuuri — Oh, mercy. He took his suit off, too. Where did that stripper pole come from?

Viktor could only stand and stare as Yuuri Katsuki kept demolishing what was left of Viktor’s, moving like sex. He kept looking back at Viktor, kept daring Viktor, kept making Viktor feel every lick of that flame in his eyes.

He had to tug at his collar. He had to have another Champagne. He needed to feel more of that heat. Just as Yuuri combed his hair back and arched his back, just as Viktor was about to take off his clothes, and just as Viktor was was push yet another challenger away, the music stopped.

Yakov or Yuri or some other sour face probably did it and Viktor wasn’t even thinking about it. No, because Yuuri Katsuki had grabbed him by the arms. Was grinding on his knee. Was looking up at him like a boy who got just what he wanted for his birthday. “Be my coach, Viktor!”

He felt an explosion in his chest, like the first time he won a gold medal. Except this one was bigger.

++

Viktor always meant to tell him goodbye. He meant to tell him so many things, like how much heaved the way he moved, how much he wanted to see that on the ice, how much he wanted to show the world what Viktor saw.

But the red eye to Japan already left Sochi and left Viktor sitting alone with a paper cup full of coffee and cloudy cream. Chris rubbed his shoulders.

“Loverboy might be quitting.”

Viktor watched the clouds. “Is that the latest?”

“No.” Chris nudged until Viktor leaned into his arm. “So last night...”

Viktor looked through the cafe window. The sun was rising over Yuuri’s plane, but Viktor couldn’t see it. “He was amazing.”

“Uh-huh.”

He hoped Chris was just blowing gossip out of proportion. But by World’s everyone was saying so. Yuuri Katsuki quit his coach and moved back to Japan. He skated in front of millions, worldwide, only thinking of one person watching him. He let the desperation flow through his body and pleaded silently through each performance: _See me_. It might have been the closest he would ever get, now.

God, he was so empty inside. So ridiculously empty and needy and aching for the fire he saw. Everything just seemed so flat. He won and it didn’t mean anything. It was just another gold. He stood on top of the world and he felt so tired. So many people in the crowd, but none of them were _him_. He talked into microphones about nothing important. Nothing that would bring him any closer to feeling like he did that night.

“What’s your problem?” Yuri Plisetsky sneered when Viktor turned down Yakov’s team dinner. “You sick or something?”

++

He replays the video. He doesn’t know how many times he’s watched it. He will probably keep watching it until someone kicks him out of the noodle stand. Makkachin noses the snow at the curb while Yuuri redescribes every scrap of need Viktor had been feeling ever since that night with the aching sway of his body.

He’s convinced this is a message. A message from Yuuri to Viktor. He needs something, too. Something from him.

_Be my coach, Viktor!_

If he was Yuuri’s coach — oh. He’d train him so well. He would whisper all the things he wants to do to Yuuri’s body right before he pushes him off into the ice and demand he show Viktor how that made him feel. He would drive Viktor insane with the look in his eyes and the tilt of his hips and he would almost smile with an almost open mouth just ripe and ready to be devoured. After that, Viktor would take off his skates and all of his clothes. He would touch every millimeter of his body, until Yuuri took him over with all that passion.

“You’re out of your mind,” Chris told him in their last phone call. “You’re not serious about coaching Katsuki. Do you realize you’re throwing your career away for some ass?”

“For love,” Viktor told him just before he boarded the plane.

He’s got to do this. He’s got to save Yuuri Katsuki. And himself. Makkachin snorts as he shakes snow off his snout. “I have a plan. Don’t worry.”

Makkachin tilts his head.

“No, I’m not procrastinating! I’m just hungry.” He slurps up more piping Raman as Makkachin whines.

++

He couldn't say no when Yuuri pulled him out of the banquet by the tie, like it was a leash, and pulled him into a corner and pulled his head down, and he couldn’t say no when Yuuri brushed his mouth against his and sipped every puff of breath out of Viktor’s body until he was gasping for air, and he couldn’t, couldn’t say no when Yuuri whispered in his ear: “Take me to bed.”

The uber ride, elevator ride, the too-long walk to his room, they were a blur of taste and touch and soft moans like promises that seemed to feel fulfilled when the door closed and clothes peeled back like petals revealing flesh like ripe fruit, ready to taste as they fell into bed.

Viktor tried to hold him down when he bit at Yuuri's ear. Yuuri groaned and Yuuri rolled his hips against his and Yuuri bit him back. Tried to stop him from flipping him over when Viktor bit at his neck. Yuuri straddled him. Grabbed Viktor’s hands and put them on his body. “More.”

“Anything you want.” He couldn’t control this. He realized it at that point. All he could do was let his hands slide all over his smooth skin and watch him writhe and rock his ass against Viktor’s cock. “Anything you want.” As long as he could feel that heat.

“Oh, god! Is this really happening?” His eyes were almost closed. His mouth was open. Viktor didn’t know how he was suddenly on top of him again. Or how his fingers got inside Yuuri’s mouth. “Fuck me, Viktor.” He didn’t know how he found a bottle of lube. He was too busy watching Yuuri gasp as he pushed one, two, three fingers deep inside. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god -!”

He was so flush. So hot. So _right_. Viktor closed his eyes as a single drop of sweat slid down the column of his back. Kept them shut as they began to move and Yuuri pulled him down. So hot - he was so hot - Viktor pressed his forehead against his as Yuuri arched his back and Yuuri scratched his back and marked his soul. But he opened his eyes when Yuuri grabbed his hair. When he took his mouth. When he devoured Viktor’s mouth. “Is that the best you got?”

He was temptation. He was seduction. He was going to find out exactly what that meant.

Viktor flipped him over. Smacked his sweet, round ass when Yuuri yelped and pulled that ass up, smacked it again just for good measure, and then —

“Show me yours and I’ll show you mine.”

Nothing felt as good as the whimpers Yuuri made as Viktor pounded into him. Nothing, until Viktor leaned down and took his cock in hand band made him sob Viktor’s name.

“That’s it. Your very best, baby boy. Just for me.” For him and no one else. Viktor wanted to keep him this way forever. It felt like fire. Like being burned alive and being reborn in those flames.

It was hard to believe it even happened when Viktor woke up alone with a freight train running through his head. The note on his nightstand wasn’t company. It was barely a note: _thank you_. Viktor shivered.

He felt so cold.

++

“Okay, fine.” He gives Makkachin a small glare. The slightest of dirty looks. “I might be a little nervous. What if Chris is right? This might be the worst mistake of my life.”

Makkachin paws the door, gently.

“Don’t scratch their door.”

He whines at Viktor.

“You think he will?” Viktor isn’t shaking. He’s just cold and it’s dark and he’s got not other option left but to come to the big wooden house at the end of the line. “I’m scared.”

Makkachin paws his leg. Tilts his head. His woof says more than a thousand hours of cell phone conversations. They always did.

Viktor takes a deep breath. “Okay. But it’s all your fault if my life is ruined.”

He puts on his best smile and knocks.


End file.
